


Ain't a Pussy

by oleanderedits



Series: The Walking Dead Character Studies [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Physical Abuse, stream of thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oleanderedits/pseuds/oleanderedits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed beat his wife. Everyone in camp knew it. Everyone in camp ignored it. Correction: Most people didn't ignore it, they just didn't do anything about it. The Dixon brothers were the ones that ignored it. <br/>(Season 1 Centric)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't a Pussy

-

Ed beat his wife. Everyone in camp knew it. Everyone in camp ignored it. They pretended it didn't happen because the whole world had gone to shit and they had worse things to worry about than some fat asshole putting new bruises on his far-too-skinny wife's arms and back and sides and once - only once - her cheek.

Correction: Most people didn't ignore it, they just didn't do anything about it. So it amounted to the same thing. At best those with the softest hearts were a little nicer to Carol, did their best not to draw her husband's attention to her, and often volunteered to watch Sophia so Carol had more time to get things done. Usually under Ed's very watchful and lazy eyes.

The Dixon brothers were the ones that ignored it. They refused to acknowledge it. Didn't discuss it. Acted like it wasn't happening. Purposely didn't see those bruises and purposely decided that nothing was wrong. They did it for different reasons, but they did it all the same.

Merle did it to protect Daryl. Daryl followed in his shadow and he believed that as long as he didn't point it out, Daryl wouldn't see it. He encouraged his brother to ignore the comings and goings of the general camp. Encouraged him not to watch enough to get attached or feel pity. Encouraged him to spend days in the woods hunting down bigger game while Merle stayed back and loudly made it clear how much helping niggers and spics and chinks and whatever other non-aryan races he saw was asking so very much of him and his brother. How  _generous_ the Dixon brothers were being by staying with at the camp and helping out.

_(Ed never went near them. Ed was afraid of them the same as he was Shane. Carol was his punching bag and he kept her close at hand so he could pretend to be a bigger man than he actually was.)_

Daryl did it because he was scared of Ed. He was scared of how much Ed was like his father. A constant reminder that he wasn't strong enough to walk away like Merle had. A reminder that he was nothing and worth nothing and he knew, _he knew_ , that if Ed ever came over and raised a hand in threat that he would crumble to the ground and let him.

_(Daryl scared him. Merle did, too, of course, but it was the younger Dixon brother that scared him more. Merle talked too much and too loudly and he was every bit a piece of redneck white trash, but Merle didn't care what Ed did. Merle was all about keeping to his own and that suited him just fine.)_

Merle already called him pathetic and weak for not putting their dad down himself after he'd turned. But Merle had left the house long before Daryl and since the day Merle had walked out that door, their daddy had laid into Daryl the same as he used to lay into Merle. Not every day, but most days, there'd be a belt and the sound of a screaming and whimpering boy would fill the woods around their house for an hour or so. Sometimes longer. Sometimes shorter.

It didn't stop when Daryl was old enough to leave. Because Daryl didn't leave. Merle had left him at home and daddy was the only family he had. He wasn't worth nothing to nobody else. He wasn't worth nothing.

Ed scared him.

_(Daryl was like Shane, but worse. Shane wasn't a killer. Shane threatened violence and worse, but he wasn't a killer. He was a cop too nosy for anyone's good. Daryl, though... Daryl was a killer and Ed knew, just looking at him, that if Daryl ever decided to do something about him, he wouldn't hesitate to put an arrow through his head. It was in the way he walked, the way he talked so casually as he walked around camp like he owned the place and nothing and no one could mess with him, the way stupid stories about bloodsucking dogs and some legend on why wolves howled to the moon and whatever random zen bullshit tumbled from his mouth as he went about his work. Like he didn't have a care in the world and everyone around him could up and die and he'd go on just fine and calling them all idiots for getting themselves dead._ _)_

Daddy beat him for years. Daddy didn't stop until the day he died, a walker bite just days after the world went to shit and Daryl couldn't even bring himself to put him out of his misery he was still so scared of him. Scared that if he stood up to the man, back talked just a little too much, hit him a little too hard, he'd be on the floor with a belt to his back. Even with daddy dead on the ground and sure to rise up, he couldn't do it. Jess had to.

He wasn't strong enough to stand up to that.

_(Carol brought the pickax down so hard on that first hit, crying her eyes out for the death of the man she'd loved even as she caved what remained of his skull in. He'd died long before that night, long before the world became a walking hellhole. She just hadn't seen it until then. Well, she had, really, but she'd lied to herself. Told herself that she was seeing things. The man in her husband's body was her Ed. Was the man she'd fallen in love with, happily had a child with twelve years before. But he wasn't._

_The pickax fell four more times before she didn't have the strength to lift it again.)_

Daryl wished, not for the first time, he could be that strong.

But he wasn't. So he ignored it. He had to ignore it. Pretend it never happened. Let the world see the face of a man not phased by anything, not really. The same as he had for the last thirty odd years after Merle left home. No matter how much his back smarted or how raw his throat was from screaming the night before.

A Dixon ain't a pussy.


End file.
